• The Calf Path
• Children of Abraham
• Free Books to Students
• Hook's Points

The Calf-Path

by Sam Walter Foss

One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell-wether sheep
Pursued the trail o’er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o’er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because ‘twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed – do not laugh –
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane,
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city’s crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed this zigzag calf about
And o’er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way.
And lost one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach --
But I am not ordained to preach.

This poem by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911) is a sort of preface to the long article to follow. I trust that no copyright has been infringed, but I know not of whom to gain permission.

When someone tries to straighten out a zig or a zag in my calf-path of tradition, the knee-jerk reaction is to dismiss it by throwing a few proof-texts and questions at it. In deeper dispute we may offer an impressive bibliography supporting each time-honored twist and turn. In order to cut a straight path, however, like in constructing a freeway through a city, much costly clearing is necessary.

If we are already walking in the "Old Paths," a re-survey only confirms the correctness of our course. Yet, the diversity of various paths which are claimed as the "Old Paths" demands much re-surveying and clearing of course. []

Return to the Table of Contents